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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793217">odi et amo - i hate and i love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathrocluss/pseuds/pathrocluss'>pathrocluss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Oblivious Adora (She-Ra), Oblivious Catra (She-Ra), Please read notes before reading, adora loves catra, bow and glimmer appear only briefly, but it’s only briefly, catra loves adora, mermista is mentioned - Freeform, nothing graphic, they kiss because of a kiss cam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathrocluss/pseuds/pathrocluss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adora laughs and holds Catra close. “You’re such a sap.”<br/>“You’re making me a softie—I hate you.” </p>
<p>When Catra hears Adora chuckles, she thinks of her professor’s words, about love being a tormenting thing, about desire and hate, hate and love, about being overwhelmed by a feeling of passion that is both brutal and reassuring: we all crucifix ourselves, she thinks, in a way or another, and we die, we die, we die thinking we’re alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora &amp; Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow &amp; Catra &amp; Glimmer (She-ra), Catra &amp; Scorpia (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>odi et amo - i hate and i love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys!<br/>This is my first post and I’m actually scared. Before you read, I want to clarify that English is not my first language. Also, there are some scenes where Catra thinks about her past and remembers what she has been through. It’s brief (and not graphic), but I think you should know.<br/>In this ff, Catra is a philosophy and Latin student and Adora is majoring in PE. Yes, I know, Adora should be a Latin student because of her link with the past but I’m just projecting lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my work.<br/>Comments and kudos are appreciated!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Every time I have to explain something” the professor says, “I use words from other languages: they make my task easier. Can anyone tell me the meaning of the word <em>iustitia</em>?” Catra looks at the body of her professor—which she starts calling in her head Dumbface—move back and forth as he waits for an answer. “Anyone? I know, I know, I can be intimidating sometimes, but I swear I won’t bite.”</p>
<p>The students glance at each other in alarm, Catra, on the other hand, tries to hide her annoyance by looking away. She almost rolls her eyes, but before she can say anything her professor decides to speak again. “Do I have to call any of you? I know all of you only from a few days, I just want to be able to talk with you, guys.”</p>
<p>It is in that moment that a hand stands out among the ranks of other students. “Yes?” “Justice” whispers a dark-skinned girl with long braids. “It means justice.”</p>
<p>The professor smiles and, after asking her name and complimenting her, continues. “Exactly: justice. An Italian philosopher named Vico believed that the word <em>ius</em>, law, therefore <em>iustitia</em>, comes from the term <em>Ious</em>—this other word was used to refer to Jupiter, god of thunder. Jupiter must control the world, thus justice must control our lives—but that’s for another lesson.</p>
<p>“So Greeks and Romans used many words to describe Love: <em>agape</em>, <em>philia</em> but also <em>anteros</em>, which means required love, or <em>eros</em> and <em>bene velle</em>. This term, the one I just said, is what I’m going to talk about from now on. Catullus” he says, making elaborate hand gestures and trying to catch his students’ attention by showing them a few pictures and paintings “gave much more importance to this word than to the others.</p>
<p>“The term “bene” means good and “velle” to wish—someone who’s benevolent genuinely wishes other people well. It’s not an act of passion. In Catullus 72, he writes: “<em>Quare etsi impensius uror, / multo mi tamen es vilior et levior</em>.”, why?” he asks. “Why does he never stop loving Lesbia even though she cheated on him?”</p>
<p>Catra lowers her gaze, reciting those words in her mind like a prayer: “<em>Uror</em>” she whispers, yes, <em>uror</em>, <em>urere</em>—burning.</p>
<p>“His love” the professor explains “grows stronger even though Lesbia destroyed his <em>fides</em>—” faith. “The feeling of love linked to the term “<em>bene velle</em>” grows weaker and weaker each day, but love and passion grow stronger—they are different things. When does the person we love become our enemy? <em>Ama</em>, said Cicero, <em>tamquam osurus</em>.”</p>
<p>“Love as though you might hate” says Catra out loud, surprising herself. As soon as she feels everyone watching her, she scowls.</p>
<p>“Correct!” he almost yells, pointing a finger at her and smiling. “<em>Odi et amo</em>, hate and love—what makes them different from each other? What if love and hate are the same?"</p>
<p>Catra closes her eyes, letting her mind wanders through her memories: she thinks of Adora, her Adora, and hides a smile; she thinks of her as a little kid—she remembers all those fights, all those lost battles. Catra remembers herself being furious at Adora, she can almost see her adoptive parents again and remember all the pain they put her through—all those times she felt useless and small, fragile and corrupted. Then Catra sees Adora—this time older—again, and notices the sadness in her eyes once she realized what had happened: Catra never really hated Adora, she thought she did, but Catra only hated herself because she couldn’t.</p>
<p>Everything had happened at her adoptive parents’ funeral, Catra had sent Adora an invitation without writing anything else—and Adora came, yes, she thinks, she came despite all the cruel things Catra said to her years before.</p>
<p><em>I’m sorry</em>, Catra told her that day, <em>I’m sorry for everything</em>, <em>Adora</em>.</p>
<p><em>Don’t be sorry</em>, she replied, caressing the back of her palm. <em>It wasn’t your fault, we were in this together</em>.</p>
<p>“What is love if not agony and pain? It is misery, it is hungry.” </p>
<p>“Of what?” asks a student.</p>
<p>“Of itself.” He pauses, showing an imagine of Jesus Christ. “Catullus said: <em>Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. / Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior</em>—I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured. It is the image of a man, in this case Catullus, crucified that clarifies all the doubts you might have: love is also tormenting.”</p>
<p>The professor—Dumbface—continues to talk, but Catra can’t hear anything he’s saying anymore: Adora is the only thing she can think of. She thinks about her long, golden hair and sweet face, strong arms and stupid smile, lastly her voice: a melodious sound, she thinks, like everything about her.</p>
<p>Catra feels an impetuous yearning for Adora, she thinks about how much simpler everything would be if she were able to talk and confess what she really feels, what consumes her; maybe, she will think later, I wouldn’t feel like this: like God at the dawn of His life. I, she will say to herself, I want to be a martyr—a martyr for love.</p>
<p>Catra thinks of Adora’s caresses as she leaves her university’s building after the lesson. She thinks of Adora’s skin against her, of everything she desires but cannot have, and doesn’t deserve.</p>
<p>Then she hears someone calling her and turns back. Catra’s lips curve into a little smile when she sees Adora and her friends, Glimmer and Bow, next to her.</p>
<p>“Hey, Adora” Catra greets her and when she sees Bow and Glimmer arch their eyebrows, says “hello, nerds.”</p>
<p>“Look who’s talking” replies Bow, “I’m not the one who’s majoring in philosophy and Latin. My dads even started calling you their daughter, it’s embarrassing.”</p>
<p>Catra rolls her eyes, “You’re just being jealous. Sparkles and Boo-Boo sound better?”</p>
<p>“Not at all.”</p>
<p>Adora gives a shove to her friend and snorts. “Don’t be rude!”</p>
<p>“But Catra—” Bow stops instantly because of Adora’s angry expression and lifts his arms as if to protect himself. “You know? I’m done, really.”</p>
<p>Glimmer starts to laugh, giving a little peck on Bow’s cheek. “Don’t be sad, babe.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sad and I’m not a baby ether.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you are.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not!”</p>
<p>Adora starts to shake her head and grabs Catra’s arm, pulling her away from their friends. “How was today’s lesson?”</p>
<p>Catra shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling she felt as soon as Adora’s fingers touched her skin, how they lingered for a moment and Catra’s body trembled slightly, as if awakened from a dream. “The usual.”</p>
<p>“You’re lying” Adora replies. “Admit it, you love this new course.”</p>
<p>“It’s... okay, I guess” Catra finds herself lying. “How was yours? Did you do some backflips?”</p>
<p>“I’m taking a PE degree, I’m not turning into a breakdancer” she jokes.</p>
<p>“But you’re taking dance lessons.”</p>
<p>She puts a hand on her chest as if hurt by Catra’s statement. “Touché.”</p>
<p>“Have you ever considered turning into a breakdancer?” When she notices Adora staring at her she punches her arm. “I can see you wear baggy pants and golden necklaces, and say things like “buddy” and “yo”.”</p>
<p>Adora grimaces. “Are you making fun of me?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.”</p>
<p>“Why do I let you do that?”</p>
<p>“Because you can’t resist me.”</p>
<p>Adora laughs, staring at a couple of students standing farther. Then, after a little pause—Catra can still hear Glimmer and Bow argue in the background—she speaks up. “I talked to Mermista.”</p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p>“Nothing. It is sold out, I will never see my favorite team play.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be melodramatic” Catra says. But when she notices Adora’s disappointment she sighs and gets closer to her. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>She nods. “I know you probably find my behavior childish but I really wanted to go.”</p>
<p>“I don’t” Catra says and Adora finds herself believing her. “I know how much it means to you... I’m sure you’ll be able to see them play soon.”</p>
<p>Adora turns her head and smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear—Catra takes a deep breath and stops herself from the impulse to reach out and touch Adora, to brush her hair and caress her cheek—she isn’t used to this kind of feeling and vulnerability; for her, love comes from madness and violence. But with Adora, she thinks, with her, it has been always different.</p>
<p>Catra thinks of her parents, of days spent hiding in her small closet while listening to them argue and yell at each other. She was only a frightened kid—<em>and now</em>, Catra thinks, <em>fear has a new face and speaks to me through a different voice</em>. She still flinches at sudden movements, but not like before: now, Catra finally thinks, I’m free—free like a bird, and I’m ready, I’m ready to spread my wings and fall once and for all.</p>
<p>And when she reaches out and put a hand on Adora’s shoulder, Adora looks down at her and sighs. And when Catra wraps her arms around her neck, she can feel Adora’s body relax against hers.</p>
<p>“You are standing on your tiptoes, aren’t you? I don’t remember you being this tall.”</p>
<p>“Shut up” Catra says, punching her arm slightly and hiding her face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent: “Don’t ruin this moment, it won’t happen again.”</p>
<p>Adora laughs and holds Catra close. “You’re such a sap.”</p>
<p>“You’re making me a softie—I hate you.” When Catra hears Adora chuckles, she thinks of her professor’s words, about love being a tormenting thing, about desire and hate, hate and love, about being overwhelmed by a feeling of passion that is both brutal and reassuring: we all crucifix ourselves, she thinks, in a way or another, and we die, we die, we die thinking we’re alone.</p><hr/>
<p>Later that day, Catra goes back to her apartment and Scorpia greets her with a frustrating sigh.</p>
<p>“No—not again” she says, dropping a frypan on their kitchen’s counter and crossing her arms.</p>
<p>The sun has been gone for a few hours—the window of Catra’s bedroom is open; if she went to it and looked out, she would see the light coming from the street lamps pour onto the road, turning everything yellow, and the dark silhouette of her neighbors as they gather around their wooden table to dine together—like a family she never had. But now that she’s standing next to her bedroom’s door, all she sees are flashes of shadows, nothing more. The shelves, the bed, the desk—everything blends into the background, nothing can be distinguished from their outline. Darkness envelops Catra like a hold friend, demanding company.</p>
<p>Soon she hears a sound of feet running on the pavement. Quickly, Catra takes off her shoes, throws her green backpack to the ground and flings herself on her unmade bed as Scorpia joins her.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare talk to me, I’m not in the mood.”</p>
<p>“You are never in the mood. Did you at least give her your present?” She asks, emerging from the darkness of her friend’s room. When she turns the light on, Catra groans and kicks her feet.</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t.” Suddenly, Catra feels the mattress dip with the weight of Scorpia’s body.</p>
<p>“Hey, are okay? Did something happen? Did Adora—”</p>
<p>“Adora did nothing wrong. It’s me—it’s always because of me.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Scorpia sighs, shaking her head. “It’s because of your low self-esteem again.”</p>
<p>“I don’t—” Catra starts to yell but she’s quickly interrupted by Scorpia’s voice.</p>
<p>“Woah, calm down, kitty!” she exclaims, frowning. “You know, you’re small but also very aggressive. You should take some yoga lessons. I could convince Perfuma—”</p>
<p>Catra rolls her eyes and hides her face in her pillow. “It’s not because of my low self-esteem” she mumbles through the fabric. “I’m just having a gay panic, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“No, you are having a gay panic because of your low self-esteem, that is different” Scorpia corrects her and Catra sighs, letting her friend see her face.</p>
<p>“It’s just—what if she rejects my tickets? What if she decides to go with someone else?”</p>
<p>“But you said it yourself: these kind of games are stupid—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know what I said, but I want to go with her. I want to see her stupid smile—”</p>
<p>“You are having a gay crisis” Scorpia jokes, and when she sees Catra’s angry pout her body shakes with silent laughter. “Okay, sorry, my bad. What were you saying?”</p>
<p>Catra shakes her head and sits up. “I’m scared of her reaction.”</p>
<p>“It’s Adora, Catra. We are talking about the same girl who founded a horse club in high school because she thought horses were being discriminated.” Catra snorts. “You know how much those tickets mean to her, she will love your present.”</p>
<p>“What if she will love my present but not me? What if she doesn’t feel the same? I want her, Scorpia, I want her so much—and I hate it, I hate this feeling. I feel powerless.”</p>
<p>Scorpia’s expression soften. “You’re not powerless, you never was. And if Adora doesn’t feel the same—which is totally stupid and impossible—then, fuck her.”</p>
<p>“I’m trying.” Scorpia makes a disgusted sound. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Catra yells when Scorpia throws a pillow to her, hitting her in the face. “It was funny, though.”</p>
<p>“It was <em>inappropriate</em>. We might share the same apartment but I don’t want to know what comes always in your mind—boundaries, we should have boundaries.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Catra chuckles, glancing at her friend. “I understand what you mean, but my feelings for her won’t change, they will never do.”</p>
<p>“And it’s okay” Scorpia reassures her. “But if you don’t give her your present and confess your feelings, how can you know? Maybe she wants you as much as you want her.” Catra lowers her head as she traces with her index finger the soft fabric of her blue bedcover. She imagines Adora there, standing right in front of her; she imagines them together in the same room—a breath away from each other, and feels a morbid longing for her.</p>
<p>“If she feels the same way, then why didn’t she tell me anything?”</p>
<p>“Have you ever thought she might feel scared, too?”</p>
<p><em>No</em>, she thinks—<em>because Adora is never scared, because she’s strong and stubborn and unapologetic. Because she isn’t me</em>.</p>
<p>“Talk to her” Scorpia adds. “But if you’re not ready, then it’s okay, too. Do what makes you feel comfortable, don’t ever push yourself. Am I clear?”</p>
<p>Catra nods: tomorrow, she thinks, tomorrow.</p><hr/>
<p> “Do you remember that time when we were playing uno and you totally cheated—”</p>
<p>“I didn’t cheat!” Catra almost screams in an attempt to defend herself. “You are so competitive you can’t even admit that I’m good at this useless game.”</p>
<p>They are at the park: Catra’s body is laying on the grass while her head is resting on Adora’s lap. The latter is sitting with her shoulders against a tree while playing with Catra’s short, dark hair. Catra leans to the touch and almost purrs—she feels, she feels, she feels like she has conquered a kingdom.</p>
<p>“I’m not competitive” Adora says, pouting. “<em>You</em> threw those goddamn cards at me after I told you that I didn’t want to play anymore!”</p>
<p>“And <em>you</em> took the sheet where I wrote down our scores and burnt it!”</p>
<p>Adora stares at her for a moment, then she throws her head back and starts to laugh. “Maybe we both are.”</p>
<p>Catra looks up and watches Adora’s ponytail swings because of the wind. “Have you told this funny tale to Sparkles? Imagine her reaction—” “Wasn’t she there with us?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so” Catra says. She turns her head and looks up to the sky above her: it looks immeasurable. Catra feels like a small kid again, she watches the sun and feels so little; this time, however, her parents won’t hurt her again. Catra thinks about all those summer she lost, all those months she spent away from the others kids and Adora, the screams, the hurt, the misery she found in her adoptive mother’s face as she told her that her father had cheated on her—<em>No, not my father</em>, she had said.</p>
<p>Then, she remembers the weight of her mother’s hand, how she withdrew from her touch and cried right away, hiding her cheek from her mother’s gaze—agony and despair, that what she felt, that’s what she feels every time a past memory comes up.</p>
<p>“I remember that day perfectly: Bow and Glimmer were there with us while we were playing. Bow’s dads showed up, too.”</p>
<p>Catra chews on her lips, loosing herself to Adora’s touch. “I don’t remember them at all” she admits, then she sees Adora and laughs, rubbing her nose.</p>
<p>“That’s because you’re competitive.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Catra hits Adora’s leg but before she can say anything else, Adora leans forward, grabbing Catra by her shoulders just to switch their position. But when Catra finds herself under Adora’s body, she switches their position back with a smirk.</p>
<p>“Don’t—” Catra sits on her solar plexus, smirking with amusement, as Adora lets a puff.</p>
<p>“What did you say? I didn’t hear anything.”</p>
<p>Adora laughs, resting her hands on Catra’s thighs. “Are you trying to sabotage my well-being?”</p>
<p>Catra leans forward, “Maybe, who knows.”</p>
<p>“Is it because I said you cheated on that stupid game?”</p>
<p>“Of course” Catra says, laughing. “And don’t call it stupid, it’s actually funny.”</p>
<p>“But you called it useless!”</p>
<p>“Only <em>I</em> can say that.” Adora rolls her eyes as Catra feels her long fingers trace the fabric of her blue jeans. She thinks of her mother and father, of their gestures and touches, and for a moment she almost flinches. But when she looks down and meets Adora’s gaze she feels lighter and safe.</p>
<p>All of sudden, Adora’s gaze drifts past Catra. “I think you just dropped something” she says, reaching out to grab a piece of paper that is laying on the grass. Catra’s eyes widen—she silently curses herself for getting distracted by Adora.</p>
<p>“Wait!” she yells, getting away from Adora’s body to try to grab her tickets first. But as soon as Catra reaches out she realizes her mistake—Adora is already holding them.</p>
<p>“Oh my god” she gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head. “You didn’t—are they what I think they are? Did you buy me these tickets?”</p>
<p>Catra sits, hugging her knees. “No, I brought them for myself because I love basket—of course I brought them for you, dummy.”</p>
<p>Adora’s lips curve into a big smile, throwing a glance at Catra as her hands start to tremble slightly. “You lied to me.”</p>
<p>Catra shrugs. “I didn’t know how to give them to you.”</p>
<p>She nods, biting her lower lip. “You said you hated basket.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s stupid. I mean, who wants to watch a bounce of dudes sweat? It’s gross.”</p>
<p>Adora snorts. “Thank you” she whispers after a minute of silence. “I really appreciate it. I—I don’t know what to say.”</p>
<p>Adora’s smile drops after hearing Catra’s next words. “Then don’t say anything. Just take these damn tickets and ask Bow or Glimmer to go with you.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” she asks, looking away.</p>
<p>“I brought them for you” Catra says, trying to ignore her disappointment. “You can take with you whoever you want. I thought you might want to go with Glimmer or Bow—”</p>
<p>“But I want to go with you.”</p>
<p>Catra’s body freezes. When she looks up, she notices Adora staring at her with a determined look. “Why me? You can go with anyone—”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know. And I want to go with you.”</p>
<p>“But why?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re my best friend, of course” she replies and Catra feels her heart shatter into pieces. Catra forces a smile. “Of course” Adora adds, “only if you want to come.”</p>
<p>Catra watches as Adora waits for an answer, she thinks of her words and her past, she imagines a different world—a world where she can be happy without having to pretend to feel and be someone else all the time. A kinder world, she thinks, a world created for me, not the other way around.</p>
<p>“Okay” she finds herself saying. “I will come with you, but only if I’m driving.”</p>
<p>“Deal.”</p><hr/>
<p>“If you don’t turn this shit off, I’ll throw you out of this car” Catra screams, trying to be heard over the loud music.</p>
<p>“What?” Adora asks, turning her head left as her long hair blows in the wind.</p>
<p>“Fuck you!” Catra rolls her eyes as she tries to turn off the radio, however, when Adora realizes her plan, she stops her by covering the stereo with her own arms. Catra groans, slapping Adora’s hand slightly.</p>
<p>“Drive!” Adora says, bursting out laughing. “If you don’t like pop music—”</p>
<p>“I don’t like it” Catra replies. “I hate it.”</p>
<p>Adora’s face brightens—for a moment, Catra allows herself to turn her head and stare at her: she looks ethereal. <em>Quid me nutrit me</em>, she recites in her head, <em>destruit</em>—What nourishes me destroys me.</p>
<p>“Don’t be grumpy” she exclaims, shaking her head and adjusting her red jumper. “It’s a beautiful day! Just take a moment and pay attention to what is around you! Look, the sun has never been this bright.”</p>
<p>Catra makes an annoying sound as she drives. “It’s disgusting.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Your positivity.”</p>
<p>Adora smiles, turning down the music. “Why do you hate pop songs so much? They are good.”</p>
<p>Catra grimaces as she turns the steering wheel with her own palm. When she looks up, she notices Adora staring at her hand. “They are awful. Have you payed any attention to the lyrics? “Guess I should say thank you / for the “hate yous” and the tattoos”, really, Adora? Do you find that romantic?”</p>
<p>She hums, turning her body towards Catra. “And what do <em>you</em> think is romantic? I’m genuinely curious.”</p>
<p>“You mean... hypothetically speaking?” Adora shrugs as she turns off the music.</p>
<p>“Yeah, hypothetically speaking.”</p>
<p>“If I were in love with someone” Catra starts, throwing a quick glance at Adora, “which I’m not, I’d take them—hypothetically speaking—to a special place.”</p>
<p>“You mean expensive?”</p>
<p>“No, it doesn’t have to be expensive. It has to be special to them, you know. It—it can be a horrific place, I wouldn’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Like an arena full of sweat bodies and testosterone?” Adora jokes, laughing and resting her feet on the dashboard.</p>
<p>Catra doesn’t reply: yes, she wants to say, yes, Adora—for you, it’s always yes. She tries to ignore the warm feeling she felt as soon as Adora words left her lips: she wants, she wants, she wants nothing but that girl, she wants something impossible and out of reach—Adora, Catra thinks, you are more like an angel, less like a saint.</p><hr/>
<p>Catra grimaces as she turns her head to look around: the arena is full. On her right, she sees a family with two small kids and sticks her tongue once she notices one of them looking directly at her. On her left, she sees an old man instead, his face—she realizes confused—is covered in bright paint. Adora has been gone for a couple of minutes to grab some snacks, leaving Catra behind—alone. She thinks about their small talk and frowns. What was she alluding to?, Catra asks herself, touching the scar on her forearm.</p>
<p>Then Adora’s phone vibrates, breaking her out of trance. Intrigued, Catra throws a glance at her phone and takes it without a second thought. As she scrolls through the notifications, she can feel her heart pound inside her small rib cage, as if demanding to be heard and taken care of.</p>
<p><em>GLIMMER: don’t be stupid, adora!! im sure catra feels the same way, just talk to her and tell her you love her!! AND NOT AS A FRIEND</em>.</p>
<p>She reads the text over and over, not believing what she’s seeing—<em>You and I</em>, Adora had told Catra when they were still two little kids, <em>were meant to find each other</em>.</p>
<p>Soon, Catra starts replaying in her head all the memories she shares with her: all the touches, all the stolen glances and lies; Catra sees her own body next Adora’s, she almost feels her hands on her as they fall asleep while listening to music—the realization, the <em>truth</em> hits her right through her chest, making her head spin.</p>
<p>And when Adora comes back, Catra pretends and acts as if nothing happened. During the whole game, she tries not to think about Glimmer’s text, but it’s hard, yes, yes, it’s hard—Catra feels trapped in her own feelings, in her own fears. What should I do?, she thinks, Adora, Adora, Adora might want me, might feel the same way. And when the Lakers scores, Catra tries not to pay attention to the pain on her chest as Adora takes her hand, smiling. She tries to ignore the feeling she felt as soon as she lowered her head and stared at their fingers entwined—it could be like this everyday, she thinks sadly.</p>
<p>Catra almost gets up and run away—away from Adora and herself. She feels powerless and terrified, a useless thing, nothing else. Then everything changes: she turns around and notices everyone looking at her—no, she thinks later, not at her, but <em>at</em> them.</p>
<p>“What is happening?” she whispers. “Why is everyone staring at us?”</p>
<p>Since Adora doesn’t reply, Catra turns and follows her gaze. “What the fuck?” she mumbles as she sees her reflection on the big screen. “You’ve got to be kidding: a kiss cam, really?”</p>
<p>The crowd starts to cheer and scream, demanding a kiss from them. “I’m sorry, Adora, I didn’t know—” she stops, glancing at her.</p>
<p>“Don’t listen to them” the other girl whispers embarrassed, lowering he head. “We don’t have to do it.” Under Catra’s worried look, Adora’s lips curve into a nervous smile. “And I bet you think it’s stupid, anyway. Or weird.”</p>
<p>Catra’s body starts to shake as she feels out of breath. Then she rolls her eyes at the excited kid on her right, turning her body towards Adora. “What do you want?” she asks.</p>
<p>Adora’s head snap back to Catra. “What?”</p>
<p>“We don’t have much time” she says, groaning. “What do you want, Adora? I saw Glimmer’s text, I know—”</p>
<p>“You went through my texts?”</p>
<p>Catra takes Adora’s hand, forcing her to look at her. “That’s not the problem! What do you want, Adora?”</p>
<p>Adora looks at her for a moment, then she speaks up. “I want you, Catra.”</p>
<p>Catra smiles, rubbing her thumb against Adora’s wrist. “Remember: this is not because I like you” she says, leaning forward. Before putting her lips on Adora’s lips, she stops, pressing their foreheads together. Catra then mirrors Adora and lowers her gaze—she feels Adora’s hands on her shoulders, crushing her entirely.</p>
<p><em>Are you sure</em>?, she mouths.</p>
<p><em>Never been this sure</em>, Catra mouths back and then she kisses Adora.</p>
<p>As she hears the crowd cheers, Catra feels hopeful for the first time ever in her life—pain and misery wash out, turning into dusk.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! Thank you for reading!!<br/>Since I’m not from America, I wrote the scenes with Catra’s professor based on my experience. I hope you enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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